The Goblet
by Elf Eye
Summary: Legolas and Aragorn journey to Lothlorien to present its Lord and Lady with a gift from Elrond. Part of The Nameless One series.
1. Chapter 1

**Vocabulary**

**muinthel-nîn—my sister**

**muindor-nîn—my brother **

Legolas held the goblet up and admired it. Most of the drinking vessels at Elrond's table were made of metal—either silver or gold. The Elves were of course perfectly capable of creating the most exquisite goblets of crystal and glass, but at Elrond's table such goblets had been rarely seen during the years when the elf-lord had been raising his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and fostering Legolas, or Anomen, as he had been known in those days. In those early years, the twins and their foster brother had broken far too many of the elegant goblets, and the sparkling stemware had vanished from the table, packed into crates until such time as Elrond deemed it safe for them to once again grace the table.

Now at last the twins and their foster brother had reached the elven equivalent of adulthood and there seemed little risk that glass goblets would be shattered by elflings attempting to surreptitiously wing one another with biscuits. Elrond had thus ordered the glass goblets unpacked from the crates that had guarded them for centuries, and now Legolas held one in his hand and turned it round and round.

"Lovely, isn't it?" said a soft voice, and Legolas turned to smile at Arwen, who had recently returned from her years of fosterage in the household of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.

"Not as lovely as you, muinthel-nîn," he replied.

"So gallant, muindor-nîn," she laughed. "Elrohir is fortunate that you do not yet choose to unleash your charms upon the maidens. When that day comes, he will no longer have as many to choose from for his trysts."

"Arwen!"

"Oh, do not play the innocent, Legolas! I saw you the other day as you decoyed Lindir away from the garden so that he might not stumble over Elrohir dallying with his sister."

Legolas blushed and cast down his eyes.

"Pity," Arwen sighed, "that you could not perform the same service for Aragorn and me."

Legolas looked up astonished. Arwen laughed at his horrified expression.

"Do not worry, Legolas. Aragorn is much more of a gentleman than Elrohir ever was. He twines only his fingers within mine—unlike Elrohir, who twines—"

"Arwen!" shouted Legolas, clapping his hands over his ears.

"What mischief is our little sister up to," called Elladan as he entered the chamber. "Has she climbed upon a tree limb and gotten her skirt dirty, as of yore?"

"That is not the limb that interests me," murmured Arwen, bestowing a sweet smile upon her brothers before gliding the room. Elladan stared at Legolas, who stood with his mouth open. "Legolas," he chided, "you had better hope that Erestor doesn't find you looking like that, with your mouth agape like a witless Troll. He will read you a lecture on deportment that will make the Silmarillion seem brief!"

Legolas quickly closed his mouth, but he shook his head in reply to Elladan's queries as to what had startled him so. "Never you mind, Elladan. Arwen was merely being antic, is all."

"Antic?" queried Elladan. "I would have expected her to have returned from Lothlórien all grown up. You make it sound as if she is still a mere child."

"I assure you," muttered Legolas, "that she is no child!"

Legolas' reflections were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Figwit. Both Legolas and Elladan took a step back and eyed him warily. How, they wondered, could such an elegant looking Elf be so clumsy? That is why Elrond employed him as a messenger, to keep him out of the Hall as much as possible and thereby preserve the furnishings.

"Prince Legolas," Figwit said, "you are wanted in Lord Elrond's study."

Legolas grimaced. Several years had passed since his identity as the Prince of Mirkwood had become generally known, but he was still not accustomed to being addressed as 'Prince Legolas'. Elladan grinned at him, for he knew what his foster-brother was thinking. "O Prince," he intoned solemnly, "no doubt you have been summoned for some grave matter of state. Pray do not allow me to detain you from your mission." Legolas pretended to scowl and then strode swiftly from the room. Elrond claimed both his respect and his affection, and he did not wish to keep the elf-lord waiting.

"Enter," came a voice when the young Elf knocked upon the door of Elrond's study. It was not Elrond's voice, however, and Legolas smiled, for he recognized the voice. He also recognized an accompanying aroma that was not one associated with an elf-lord. He turned the handle of the door, and a cloud of smoke billowed forth. "Mithrandir," Legolas called, pretending not to see the wizard veiled by the tendrils of smoke.

"Something wrong with those vaunted elf-eyes of yours?" chaffed Mithrandir, removing the pipe from his mouth. He sat comfortably in the corner, his chair tilted back, his feet upon a hassock.

Legolas settled himself upon a nearby bench. "Elrond is going to be put out when he finds his chamber filled with fumes," he pointed out. In reply, Mithrandir returned the pipe stem to his mouth and puffed furiously. When he removed it, he looked satisfied with himself. "I have endured Elrond's sanctimonious sanctions for centuries," he declared smugly.

Just then the door was flung open, and Elrond strode in and commenced his own sort of fuming. "Mithrandir!" he expostulated. "Have I not asked you to refrain from that foul habit whilst within? Yet when I return from a brief errand, I find the rafters wreathed in smoke!"

The elf-lord raised his hand and gestured commandingly. A breeze sprung up, Gandalf's pipe went out, and the room was swept clear of vapors. Legolas was impressed. Elrond rarely made use of Vilya, the Ring of Air. The elf-lord had always said that a Ring of Power was not to be used lightly but that its powers were to be husbanded, to be called upon when the need was great.

Apparently Mithrandir was impressed as well. Meekly he returned his pipe to its pouch. He lifted his feet from the hassock and sat up straight.

"I did not know that you were in Rivendell," Legolas said lightly, seeking to smooth over the disagreement between his two elders.

"I have just returned from a visit to Lothlórien," replied the wizard.

"And is all well in the Golden Wood?" asked Legolas.

"Quite well. Haldir and his brothers send you their greetings. Rúmil asks when you will return to answer his challenge—whatever he meant by that, I do not know."

"Oh, he has been bragging that he traveled fifteen leagues, leaping from tree to tree, without ever setting foot on ground. I told him that that was a piffling distance, that I had once eluded Orcs for over twenty-five leagues by traveling in such a fashion. I agreed to race him through the treetops over a course of thirty leagues to see who would go the furthest and the fastest without descending to the forest floor."

"By your account, then," Elrond observed sardonically, "it took you twenty-five leagues to shake off Orcs even though you were aloft and therefore presumably had the advantage."

Legolas colored. It had not occurred to him to look at it from that point of view, but now that Elrond had drawn it to his attention, he saw that his pride in his exploit had been unwarranted.

"You are right, Elrond," he said humbly. "I was wrong to brag to Rúmil, and I shall tell him so the next time I see him."

"Which will be very soon indeed," said Elrond, who now smiled, his good humor having been at once restored by his foster-son's frank admission. "I have been casting about for a way to show my gratitude to Celeborn and Galadriel for the care that they lavished upon Arwen during the years that she dwelt with them. When the goblets were unpacked and I discovered anew their beauty, I determined that a set would be made for the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. The glassblowers have completed that task, and I have chosen you to be their bearer."

Legolas cheered up as quickly as Elrond had, partly because he was happy to be back in Elrond's good graces, partly because he was always delighted at the prospect of a stay in Lothlórien. The mere beauty of the place entranced him; to that was added the pleasure to be had in the company of Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin.

Elrond caught the look of glee upon the young Elf's face and at once the elf-lord assumed a sober demeanor. "Whilst in Lórien you will of course," he said sternly, "comport yourself in a fashion that will redound to the credit of both your fathers. You must always be mindful that you represent not only Imladris but Mirkwood.

"Of course," Legolas replied in his smoothest voice, masking his glee with a bland expression. Mithrandir chuckled at the young Elf's attempt at counterfeiting calmness. "Are you sure, Elrond," he said, "that you wish to trust him with this errand? At the very least, hadn't you better send some one along to keep an eye on him?"

"Are you volunteering?" Elrond asked sardonically.

"Certainly not!" exclaimed Mithrandir. "I have just arrived from Lothlórien. I have no intention of turning about and retracing my steps. No, I mean to travel on to the Shire. I want to check in on the welfare of an old friend."

"Well," said Elrond thoughtfully, "I can't send Elladan and Elrohir. They are departing on patrol tomorrow. Ah, I have it! I shall send Estel. That way I shall keep not only Legolas out of mischief but Estel as well. I have been casting about for a way to keep the lad occupied and out of trouble."

"Indeed?" said Mithrandir, pretending innocence. "Whatever sort of trouble could our innocent Estel be getting into?"

Elrond stared balefully at the wizard as Legolas looked away, careful to maintain a neutral expression. The young Elf was well aware that Elrond and Mithrandir disagreed on the matter of Aragorn and Arwen. Mithrandir opined that it was all to the good that the two cousins, both descended from Eärendil the Mariner, should reunite the elven and edain branches of the family. Elrond, on the other hand, could not but be distressed at the prospect of losing his daughter—for that would be the inevitable outcome of a liaison between Aragorn and Arwen. Arwen was Peredhil, like her father, and would face the same choice that he had upon a time: to depart with her elven kin to the Undying Lands or to mingle her bones with the earth of Arda. If she espoused Aragorn, she would be choosing the latter, but her father had long ago chosen the former.

After several uncomfortable moments, Elrond cleared his throat and addressed Legolas. "Mithrandir tells me that the mountain passes have been dodgy these past several months, and therefore you and Estel are not to attempt a crossing. Instead, you shall travel by boat down the Bruinen until you reach the southernmost of its eastern tributaries. That branch is slow moving for much of its length, so in it you may paddle upstream until you reach the foothills of the Misty Mountains. Then you can take to your feet and pass through the Gap of Rohan, skirting the southernmost fringe of Fangorn Forest until turning north for the final leg of your journey."

"We are not to go on horseback?"

"No, I think the goblets are less likely to be broken if you go by boat. I plan to have them well-wrapped and packed into a crate for the most of the journey. Only when you take to land will you divide the goblets between you. Since you will be close to Lothlórien by then, you will not be carrying much in the way of provisions and can easily bear such a burden."

Legolas nodded. "Very well, Ada," he said, unconsciously falling back into the habit of addressing Elrond as 'Papa', as he done so during the long years of his fosterage. Elrond smiled fondly upon him. Even though Thranduil had reclaimed Legolas as his own, Elrond had never ceased thinking of the young Elf as his son. At the moment, Elrond's protective stance toward his foster son—his foster sons, really, for the dispute involved Estel as well—was a sore point between elf-lord and wizard. Mithrandir had repeatedly hinted that Legolas would be called upon to play a role in a Great Quest, as would Aragorn. Elrond knew that every time Mithrandir went on 'quest', trouble ensued, so he was averse to hearing that Legolas and Aragorn were destined to go on such a journey.

Legolas was unaware of this dispute between Elrond and Mithrandir. Truly, though, so many were the bones of contention continually picked over by elf-lord and wizard that the Mirkwood Elf would have paid little attention to this particular quarrel even if he _had_ been aware of it. Later, however, he would come to hear of it.

This day, though, Legolas was thinking only of the upcoming journey. After Elrond dismissed him, the young Elf went straight to the stables, for it was evening and he knew that Aragorn would be seeing to his stallion. 'Estel will be disappointed when he learns that we must travel by boat rather than by horse', Legolas thought to himself. 'Sometimes I think he would sleep astride his horse if he could'. In truth, even though Aragorn did not sleep _on_ his horse, he was known to sleep _by_ his steed. Soon after Estel's upbringing had been entrusted to Elrond, the elf-lord had learned that the stable was the first place to check if the lad vanished during the night. There the youngster would be found wrapped in a saddle blanket upon hay mounded up in the stall set aside for his pony. Elrond had to admit, though, that in some ways Estel's choice of sleeping accommodations was preferable to that of Legolas. After all, the stable was a short distance from the Main Hall, and the way to it was in part sheltered by covered walkways. Whenever Legolas had absconded, however, he had taken to the forest, settling himself high upon a tree limb. He had been much harder to find, and the unfortunate assigned the task (Glorfindel, usually) had been exposed to the elements.

Legolas reached the stable, and as he had expected, Aragorn was within, applying a pick to his horse's hooves. "Estel," called Legolas, "we are to journey to Lothlórien." Aragorn looked up and smiled. "Lothlórien? That is good. But first I shall need to see to the repair of my horse's harness. Several straps are well worn."

Legolas shook his head. "The harness can be repaired in your absence. We are going by boat."

Aragorn looked disappointed, as Legolas had expected he would, but the young Man recovered quickly. Aragorn loved the Golden Wood, not the least because for so long it had been the home of Arwen. And Aragorn, like Legolas, enjoyed gallivanting through Lórien in company with Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin, although, as the Lórien brothers aged, they spent more time guarding the border and less time in play.

A fortnight later, Aragorn and Legolas pushed their boat into the icy waters of the Bruinen. On the near bank, Arwen and Elrond waved farewell, and as the boat passed under a bridge, Mithrandir leaned over the parapet and shouted his good wishes. The wizard was crossing over to the far shore to set out on his journey to the Shire.

Their friends receded into the distance as the young Elf and young Man put their backs into paddling. They could have floated at their leisure, but they had agreed to paddle for all they were worth. "If we reach Lórien more quickly than Elrond anticipates," Legolas had pointed out, "we can linger in that place for several days and still return to Imladris within the time allotted for our journey."

So eager were the two young travelers to arrive at their destination that they decided to run the rapids that interrupted the river at several points. The goblets had been very carefully packed, each cushioned by several layers of thick cloth, and the crate was lashed down so it would not shift and throw the boat off balance. Given the care that had been lavished on securing their cargo, Aragorn and Legolas were confident that the stemware would come to no harm if they ran the rapids instead of portaging them.

The first two rapids were small ones, and the young travelers ran them laughing, exhilarated as they careened past boulders, the spray covering them with a fine mist. As they approached the third rapid, however, they saw that its waters were more turbulent than the first two. Momentarily, they held back their boat with their paddles, debating whether they ought to draw their vessel from the water and carry it around the obstacle.

"We can run this channel," Aragorn argued.

"The water course is narrower here, Estel," Legolas replied, "and so the current moves more rapidly. Let us portage. There will be many other rapids to run further downstream."

But Aragorn was in high spirits and desired to test himself against the worst that the river had to offer. At last, smiling wryly, Legolas gave way. It was a decision lightly taken; the results, however, would be far from lightsome.


	2. Chapter 2: To Build a Fire

**Thanks to the following reviewers of Chapter 1: **_**CAH, Telcontar Rulz, Joee1, Mirwen Sunrider, Opalkitty, windwraith, **_**and **_**fair rider**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**The incident in which the elfling Anomen accidentally sets Erestor's cloak on fire may be found in the story "Really Bad Eggs."**

**Chapter 2: To Build a Fire**

Aragorn, crouched in the prow of their vessel, whooped as they drove the boat forward, and Legolas laughed at his exuberance. At this point, the Bruinen's meandering course had taken it to the foot of the Misty Mountains, and the narrow channel was bounded on each side by rocky walls that rose high above the paddlers.

Aragorn whooped again as the boat careened past a boulder, and he raised his paddle above his head in triumph. Then his whoop changed to a gasp of surprise as the paddle was nearly knocked from his hand. Sitting in the stern, Legolas yelled in alarm as he saw the cause for the near accident: a crossbow bolt had been driven into the paddle's blade. But Aragorn hardly needed any warning, for a second bolt whizzed by him and imbedded itself in the gunwale. At the same time, a bolt nicked Legolas' vambrace, and yet another passed through the hood of his cloak.

Man and Elf flung themselves into the bottom of the boat. They had floated into an ambush—although, Legolas reflected, it was better that they had floated into one rather than walked into it. He knew how it must have been: a band of Orcs, emboldened by their nearness to their dens in the Misty Mountains to which they might quickly retreat in case of serious resistance, had staked out a position at a spot where they thought travelers were likely to portage. Aragorn and Legolas had foiled their plan by choosing to attempt the rapids, but now the disappointed Orcs were raining missiles upon their hapless prey, who had no choice but to run this gauntlet of enemy archers.

Judging from the number of bolts that now fell upon them, it was a large force. Their foes were hidden above the canyon's rim, firing down from above, and the Elf and Man had no hope of picking them off with their own bows. They remained hunched down in the bottom of the boat, springing up from time to time in an attempt to fend the vessel away from rocks. At last, however, the inevitable happened. They fetched up against a boulder and the boat slewed to one side, then tipped over, throwing both Legolas and Aragorn into the water. From one point of view, this was not a bad development. It became difficult for the Orcs to target them as they tumbled about in the roiling water, and the water blunted the force of any missiles that did come their way.

The water carried them downstream a considerable distance. Both Aragorn and Legolas knew better than to waste their strength in an attempt to battle their way out of the current. Instead, they allowed themselves to be swept along until the river widened and the current grew less powerful. At last they came in sight of a sand spit, whereupon rested their overturned boat, and they swam toward it. Arriving at this tiny peninsula, they crawled out of the water and sprawled upon the sand, panting and gasping.

Legolas was the first to recover. He pushed himself up on his elbows, raising his head from the sand and looking about. At least, he thought to himself, they likely were beyond the reach of the Orcs, who would not venture far from their lairs in the Misty Mountains. Then, too, they had fetched up against the western shore of the river, and Legolas doubted that the Orcs would cross the icy waters of the Bruinen to search for their prey.

Legolas raised himself into a seated position. He was soaked, of course, but, Elf that he was, he did not feel chilled. He looked over at Aragorn and with alarm remembered that his foster-brother was not so fortunate. Shivering violently, his knees drawn up and his shoulders hunched, the young human lay on his side hugging himself. "Estel," Legolas called. Aragorn looked up. His lips were blue. Still, the Elf was relieved that his friend had responded promptly and, indeed, that he was shivering. 'Amongst Men', the Elf thought to himself, 'it is a very bad sign when a Man is cold past shivering. Nonetheless, I must find some way to warm him. Once night falls, it will grow all the colder'. Legolas gazed about, seeking some means by which he might light a fire. Both he and Aragorn carried flint and steel and a small quantity of tinder. The latter, however, would have been soaked when the boat overturned, and everything on shore was sodden from the recent rains that had caused the river to run so swiftly. Legolas knew he would have great difficulty striking a blaze using his fire-making kit. He could fashion a bow drill, Legolas thought, but, again, lacking tinder, how was any spark thus generated to be nursed into a flame? Legolas glanced up anxiously at the sun. He had no more than two hours to kindle a blaze before the sun should set. Deciding quickly, he judged that the bow drill would be best. Sparks could be struck more swiftly with flint and steel, but with the drill the wooden base itself would grow hot and might be coaxed into burning even in the absence of tinder. Legolas arose to look about for materials from which to make the bow drill. 'In my pack there is some twine that would suit', he said to himself.

Swiftly he strode to the boat and opened his pack, which with Aragorn's had been wedged under the wooden braces in the bottom of the boat. He reached into it and retrieved a length of twine. Then he looked about for three pieces of wood that could be fashioned into the handhold, spindle, and bow, as well as a fourth piece that would serve as the fireboard. Soon he had fashioned what he needed, and he set to work. Ai! So soaked was the wood that even after a half an hour had passed he had not succeeded in kindling a blaze. He looked up anxiously at the sun. It had been hidden behind clouds, but now the cloud cover had begun to break. Legolas welcomed its warmth but wished it had shown itself earlier. 'Had the sun come forth even an hour ago, perhaps it would have dried the wood sufficiently so that I might have gotten it to burn. Now only a half hour of sunlight remains, not enough to serve. If only there were some way to capture the power of that orb."

Suddenly he remembered an incident that had occurred soon after his arrival in Rivendell, when he had been a little elfling. He had been in the garden with his tutor Erestor, who had shown him a curved piece of glass that made objects look larger. As the elfling had played with this intriguing toy, a beam of sunlight had passed through it, falling upon the cloak of the tutor, who, lulled by the warmth of the day, had fallen asleep. Suddenly a puff of smoke had arisen from the cloth, and then all at once Erestor's cloak had been on fire. The blaze had been put out quickly enough and Erestor had been unharmed, but now Legolas realized that the long-ago misadventure might be the key to saving Aragorn's life. He leaped to his feet and hurried back to the boat.

Aragorn turned his head and watched the Elf with scant interest. He saw Legolas prying the top from the crate. "I suppose," the human thought dully, "that he is checking whether the goblets have survived the accident." When Legolas returned bearing a goblet, the human was confused. "Are we to have a dinner party? But we have no wine? One needs no goblet to drink river water. I hope Legolas did not hit his head upon in a boulder as we passed through the rapids. He acts as if he has a concussion."

Aragorn grew even more confused as Legolas knelt before the pile of twigs and tried to angle the goblet so that a beam of sunlight would pass through it and strike the fuel. Dissatisfied with the results, the Elf struck the goblet upon a rock and sorted through the shards. At last finding one that he thought would suit, the Elf held it up to the sun. The light from the sun passed through the curved glass and its focused power shone upon one small twig. As Aragorn watched bewildered, a wisp of smoke arose from this tiny piece of wood. Then, to his amazement, he saw a tiny flicker of flame. Legolas nursed the flame, feeding it small pieces of wood that would dry quickly. Soon, however, the fire was large enough so that he could safely feed it larger pieces of damp wood. The resulting fire was smoky, but it provided warmth, and that was all Legolas wanted. He helped Aragorn remove his soggy garments and then urged him to huddle as close to the fire as he could bear. Then he removed his own damp clothes and spread both his and Aragorn's over bushes. When he had finished, he noticed with relief that Aragorn already looked a little better. His lips were not so blue, and he was not shivering as violently. Encouraged, the Elf returned to the boat to retrieve both his and Aragorn's packs. He dumped their contents upon the ground and sorted through them. Such foodstuffs as would spoil as a result of their dunking he used to improvise a dinner. The rest he placed near the fire to dry.

After they had eaten their rather peculiar meal—Legolas had made a sort of pudding out of their sodden bread—Aragorn looked as if he were fully restored. The two stretched out beside the fire and idled away an hour in talk. Soon the discussion turned to the method by which Legolas had kindled the fire.

"I wonder," speculated Aragorn, "why you even bother to carry flint and steel, Legolas. This manner of lighting a fire requires much less effort than striking stone against metal!"

"To speak the truth, Estel, I had forgotten all about the power of glass to kindle a flame. Even if I hadn't, I doubt if I would have gotten into the habit of carrying a piece of glass about. Kindling a fire in this fashion only works when the sun is visible; flint and steel works at all times—if the wood be dry!"

"Perhaps we ought to carry both."

Legolas shook his head. "If we carried every tool that _might_ be useful at some time, we would be heavily laden indeed! It is best to carry only that which is likeliest to be of use—and generally that would be the flint and steel, I reckon. Although," he mused, "there may come a day when flint and steel will not be the first choice of either Man or Elf. Mithrandir says that someday everyone will carry about little sticks no longer than a toothpick and that fire will shoot out from the ends of these sticks."

"Ah," Aragorn said wisely, "so we shall all possess tiny wizard's wands."

"Apparently so. He also says that another way that folk shall kindle fire in the future is by carrying tiny little vessels not even a quarter the size of one's palm. With one's thumb one shall flick a lever, and fire will burst forth."

"Carrying about fire in a tiny vessel," marveled Aragorn. "Truly the wonders of the future shall exceed any of these days."

"Yes," Legolas agreed thoughtfully, "I suppose our folk and our customs shall seem ever so ordinary to people in the ages to come."

The next morning, Legolas went down to the boat and carefully checked it. It seemed to have sustained little damage. Legolas bailed it, pushed it into the stream, and paddled it about for a while. Satisfied, he again beached it and returned to the camp, where he found Aragorn nursing a cut finger. He had used the shard of glass to rekindle the fire but had nicked himself in the process.

"Another good reason to stick to flint and steel," the young human observed ruefully. "Metal and rock do not shatter."

Legolas smiled his agreement and shared in the breakfast that his friend had prepared. Afterward they donned their clothes, which if still damp, were at least not sopping. Then Legolas used a rock to pound the nails back into the top of the crate containing the remaining goblets, and they resumed their journey, drifting lazily down the river for a time before again taking up paddles. "Legolas," Aragorn said as they drifted, "do you suppose Galadriel and Celeborn will notice that there are an odd number of goblets?"

"I am sure Galadriel will observe that a goblet is missing," shrugged Legolas, "for nothing escapes her notice. I doubt that she will mind, however. She will pass it off graciously by saying that it was very thoughtful of Elrond to send an odd number of goblets in case one should later be broken."

"And Celeborn?"

"Celeborn has ever been austere. He would not see the need to have any extra goblets at all. One has only one mouth; thus one needs only one drinking vessel. Those would be his sentiments, I am sure."

"I am glad," said a relieved Aragorn, "as I should not like to displease the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. I should like to remain in their favor always! 'Twould be a pity to lose their regard on account of a broken drinking vessel."

"Well, you won't," Legolas said firmly. "You'll see. We shall deliver the rest of these goblets without mishap, and the Lord and Lady will be pleased with us."

And with the confidence of the young, the two friends picked up their paddles and blithely pressed on.


	3. Chapter 3: Lost Sheep

**Thanks to the following reviewers: **_**CAH,**__** Telcontar Rulz**__**, Joee1,**__** JastaElf,**__** fair rider,**_** and **_**grumpy123, **_**who has weighed in with****a review of Chapter 1****. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**Vocabulary**

**Aesc—Ash Tree; boy's name; Anglo-Saxon**

**Daegmund—Day Guardian; boy's name; Anglo-Saxon**

**Eadward—Guardian of Prosperity; boy's name; Anglo-Saxon**

**Frideswide—Peace-Strong; girl's name; Anglo-Saxon**

**Frithswith—Peace-Strong; girl's name; Anglo-Saxon**

**Mildreth—Gentle Strength; girl's name; Anglo-Saxon**

**Wilheard—Strong-Willed; boy's name; Anglo-Saxon**

**Chapter 3: Lost Sheep**

Legolas and Aragorn encountered no more trouble the length of the Bruinen, and at last they reached its southernmost tributary. Turning east into this branch, they paddled against the current, albeit with no great difficulty, for the gradient was mild. Each night they drew their boat upon shore and made camp. They alternated two hour watches throughout the night. They were still within Dunland, and although the Dunlendings were not brave warriors, they would not hesitate to attack sleeping travelers.

As Legolas took his turn one night, he heard movement within a nearby bush. Without turning his head toward the sound, he slowly moved his hand toward his knife. As soon as his hand was upon it, he drew the blade and leaped to his feet and into the scrub. Aragorn was awake upon the instant, drawing his own knife and leaping after his foster-brother. What he found caused him to put up his knife at once. Legolas, his own knife once again sheathed, stood above the cowering figure of a small boy. Aragorn tried not to laugh at the bemused expression upon the face of the Elf. "'Tis a mighty foe you have quelled, brother," the Man jested. Legolas scowled at him and then turned toward the boy. "What are you doing out here?" he asked gently, now more curious at finding a child alone in the wild than fearful for the safety of himself and his companion. "Are you lost?"

"N-n-no," stammered the boy. "I know where I am."

"And where are you?"

"A day's journey from my village."

"That is a far distance for a child alone. And you are alone, are you not?"

The boy's eyes filled with tears. Mutely, he nodded.

"But if you are not lost, then why are you alone."

"R-r-ran away."

"Why did you run away?"

The tears spilled out of the boy's eyes and trickled down his cheeks, leaving tracks through the grime that obscured his face.

"My Da-my Da, he is going to beat me."

Legolas was careful not to let his anger show. As an Elf, he was amazed and appalled by the humans' custom of beating their children. Aragorn, raised by the Elves, was likewise horrified. Now he addressed the boy.

"Why will your father beat you?"

"Wolf took a sheep whilst I was minding the flock. And it was an ewe, and it was carrying a young one. My Da will say I lost two sheep. Nay, he will say I lost three, for he reckoned the ewe was carrying two, so big was its belly."

This was a serious matter indeed. To an impoverished Dunland farmer, the loss of even one sheep could mean the difference between eating poorly and eating not at all. But what was to be done? Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances, and each had the same thought. They would take the boy with them. He couldn't remain permanently in Lothlórien, of course, but after they had finished their errand there, he could return with them to Imladris. From thence he could be conveyed to Breeland, where no doubt they would find a master willing to take him on as an apprentice.

"What is your name, lad?" Aragorn asked.

"Eadweard."

"Well, Eadweard, you will come to grief if you remain alone in the wild. A wolf that takes a sheep will not hesitate to take a small boy. Even worse than a wolf are the slavers. Should one come upon you, he will seize you and drag you far to the south, where you will be sold to a master who will beat you worse ever than your father would."

Now the lad was sobbing outright.

"No, no, do not cry," Legolas interjected hastily. "If you like, you may travel with us, and when we come to the end of our journey, we will find you a good master. You will not be a slave but an apprentice, and you will grow up to be a fine man. You will become a journeyman, and, then, if you work hard, you will be your own master."

Still sobbing, the boy shook his head. "Nay, I do not want to."

Puzzled, Aragorn and Legolas again exchanged glances.

"You would choose to wander alone in the wild rather than accept our protection?" asked Aragorn. "We won't hurt you, if that's what you fear."

"I don't want to wander alone," wept the boy.

"Then you will come with us?"

"And I don't want to go with you, neither."

"But you must do one or the other," exclaimed Aragorn, a trifle nettled.

"Nay, Estel, there is a third way," Legolas declared. "You want to go home, don't you?"

"Yes," wept the boy. "I want to go home, but I don't want my Da to beat me. I want to see my Ma, and my brother Aesc, and my brother Wilheard, and my sister Mildreth, and my brother Daegmund, and my sister Frideswide, and my sister, Frithswith, and my—

"Very well," interrupted Legolas as the recitation threatened to be interminable. "You shall go home."

"But I don't want my Da to beat me!"

"He won't," Legolas assured the boy. The Elf went to the boat, and when he returned he bore three objects well wrapped. He drew back the covering of one, and Eadweard gasped at the sight of the beautiful glass goblet.

"This is pretty and rare and therefore valuable," Legolas said. "Your father may sell it for even more than the worth of an ewe. And here are two more, one for each lost lamb. Will your father be satisfied, do you think?"

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the boy.

Legolas smiled. "Good! Now come to the fire and sup—for I'll warrant you have had nothing to eat this day."

Eadweard grinned and nodded and was soon sitting by the fire, wrapped in Aragorn's blanket and happily alternating bites of the cheese he held in one hand and the apple he held in the other.

The next morning Eadweard gladly gathered wood and fetched water so that Legolas might prepare breakfast. Aragorn was about to stop Eadweard when the boy gathered up the dishes after they had finished their meal, but Legolas stayed him.

"Legolas," Aragorn objected in a whisper, "you and he have done your fair share of the chores. He toted, you cooked; therefore, I should do the washing up."

Legolas shook his head vigorously. "It is best he do as much of the chores as possible. By and by you will see that I am right."

Legolas refused to say more, and after Eadweard had scoured the dishes, they set out for his village, with the boy riding on Aragorn's shoulders so that they might make good time. When they neared the village, Legolas lifted the lad from Aragorn's shoulders and set him on his feet.

"Now, then, Eadweard, we have seen you safe to your village and may go no further."

He handed the boy the three bundles containing the goblets. The boy looked troubled. "Master Elf," he said slowly. "My Da will be wondering why stranger folk who are no kin to us would gift me with such a treasure. What am I to say?"

"That is easy to answer," Legolas replied. "Those goblets are payment for the skivvy duty that you performed. Tell your father that you gathered firewood, toted water, and washed dishes." The Elf caught Aragorn's eye and winked. Aragorn grinned and winked back. So that was the way of it. As ever, Legolas had proved to be crafty and ingenious. 'I am glad he is my friend and not my enemy', Aragorn thought to himself. 'If he were my foe, I could neither creep up on him nor outwit him'.

Man and Elf remained in the bushes, watching to make sure of Eadweard's reception. To their relief, the boy's mother spied him before his father did. With a cry of joy, she dropped the basket she was carrying and ran to embrace him. After mother and son had exchanged greetings, the boy showed her the goblets, and she took them inside to show her husband while Eadweard waited outside. Soon the father appeared in the doorway, and Legolas and Aragorn could understand the boy's fear. Eadweard's father was the tallest Dunlending that either had ever seen. 'I think there is a touch of Troll somewhere in that family tree', Legolas thought to himself. 'It is no wonder Eadweard did not wish to suffer a beating at his hands'. Fortunately, no beating would be forthcoming this day. The Dunlending was smiling and haled his son cheerfully. Eadweard ran to him and threw his arms about his waist, and the Dunlending laughed and tousled the lad's hair with a massive hand. Together the two entered their cottage, but before Eadweard disappeared, he glanced back and waved surreptitiously. The lad was grinning, and it was thus with a great sense of relief that Aragorn and Legolas slipped from their hiding place and began the trek back to their boat.

"Those goblets should bring enough money to keep Eadweard's father in good humor for many a day," Legolas observed as they strode through the scrub.

"True," conceded Aragorn, "although I hope you are mindful of the fact that we are now short four goblets, counting the one that you broke earlier."

"But," said Legolas airily, "that is all to the good."

"To the good?" retorted Aragorn, nonplussed.

"Aye, for now we once again have an _even_ number of goblets. The loss of four goblets will be much less easily descried than the loss of one."

Aragorn was no longer sure that he trusted Legolas' logic in this matter. Sighing, he adjusted the strap securing his quiver.

"Oh, mend your mood," Legolas mock-scolded. "It will be all right. We will deliver these goblets to the Lord and the Lady, and they will be pleased. They will send word to Elrond, who will also be pleased. Yes, it is certain that we will conclude this errand successfully and with honor."

Behind Legolas, Aragorn raised his eyebrows so high that Elrond would have been proud. Aragorn knew of the proverb that 'there is many a slip 'twixt cup and lip'. Apparently, he mused, in the case of these goblets, simply getting the cup in the general vicinity of the lip was going to be half the struggle.

Oblivious to Aragorn's rueful reflections, Legolas strode on, his human foster-brother trailing thoughtfully after.


	4. Chapter 4: Sharp Tongue

**Thanks to the following reviewers: **_**windwraith, Elfinabottle, Mirwen Sunrider, Joee1, grumpy123, Opalkitty, The Inebriated Lion-Minion, fair rider, red.x.sakura, **_**and **_**CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**I have taken the liberty of creating a genealogy for Gríma Wormtongue. Tolkien tells us that Gríma's father was Gálmód. The Grimtung in this chapter is Gálmód's father, Gríma's grandfather.**

**Vocabulary**

**muindor-nîn—my brother**

**Chapter 4: Sharp Tongue**

Aragorn and Legolas had traveled as far as they could by river, and it was now time to beach their boat and take to the land. After first making sure that their boat was well-hidden under brush, the two travelers divided the goblets and tucked them, carefully wrapped, into the bottoms of their packs. The goblets safely stowed, the two friends hoisted their packs and began their march.

They had planned to keep to the outskirts of Fangorn Forest and not enter the lands of the Rohirrim. At length, however, they encountered a fen, and to avoid it they swung further south than they had planned, until they could not avoid entering that that portion of the Gap of Rohan that was undeniably the territory of the Horse-masters. Ai! All too soon Legolas felt the beat of distant horse hooves.

"Should we make for the forest, do you think?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas looked north. He could see no sign of safe footing that way, merely miles and miles of marsh. He shook his head.

"There is no enmity between Elrond and King Fengel of Rohan," he replied, "and the Men of Rohan, while fierce warriors, are said to be courteous to travelers who cross their land without evil intent. Let us await them here." The two slung off their packs and seated themselves cross-legged upon the ground, looking toward the south expectantly.

At length Legolas could make out the standards of a small troop of Rohirrim cavalry. At first it looked as if the troop would pass them by, traveling southeast, but then one of the riders must have spotted the interlopers, for suddenly the troop changed direction and made straight for the spot where Legolas and Aragorn awaited them. The two travelers arose to their feet and stood, their arms resting loosely by their sides, palms turned slightly toward the approaching riders so that they could see that the strangers had no weapons in their grip.

The troop reined up several yards away, spears couched but pointed at the earth, and their leader rode several feet closer, until he loomed over the young Elf and human, both of whom hid their disquiet at his appearance. He lacked facial hair, or so it seemed—no beard or mustache, but also no eyebrows or even eyelashes. This deficiency gave his head a serpentine appearance, an impression strengthened by his heavy-lidded eyes, which glittered like those of a snake about to strike as he scrutinized Elf and human.

"A peculiar pair you make," he challenged. "If is not often an Elf is seen in company with a Man, and I misdoubt some treachery, an alliance between Elves and renegade Men. You come to spy out the land of Rohan, I warrant."

Aragorn was angry at the Rider's rudeness, for it was customary even for those about to do battle to at least exchange names, and this Man had neither stated his nor asked theirs. Legolas felt the young human's anger and shifted subtly to press Aragorn's elbow before the young human could speak and make a difficult situation even worse.

"Master," Legolas said politely, "my friend and I travel in company because, by the leave of Lord Elrond, we are both inhabitants of Imladris, or Rivendell, as you may know it. Even Dwarfs are known to frequent that place."

"But you would not journey with one," sneered the Rider. "Or would you, Elf?"

Legolas was about to reply indignantly that of course he would never travel in company with a Dwarf, but he caught himself. The point was to convince the Rider that there was nothing suspicious about the fact that folk of different race might make common cause. If he declared that he would not travel with a Dwarf, he would be 'cutting off his nose to spite his face', as Men were wont to say.

"If Lord Elrond bade me accompany a Dwarf," he said mildly, "then I would do so. Like you and all folk of honor, I heed the commands of my elders."

A titter of laughter swept through the ranks of the Riders, and Legolas wondered if the amusement arose from his having addressed their leader as a person of honor. If he were not a person of honor, that could bode ill for the travelers. On the other hand, Legolas considered, if his Men did not respect him, that fact could be turned to account. The Elf decided to cultivate the good opinion of the Men who, reining in their high-spirited horses, awaited the orders of their truculent leader.

"Before we departed Rivendell," the Elf declared, speaking loudly enough for all the Men to hear, "one command that Lord Elrond issued us was that we learn about the lands we would travel through. Thus we know well the genealogy of your king, whose ancestry commands respect." As Legolas began to declaim the genealogy of King Fengel, he thought gratefully of his tutor Erestor, who had insisted that he learn the history of Rohan. "Eorl the Young begat Brego," Legolas intoned. "Brego begat Aldor the Old; Aldor the Old begat Frea; Frea begat Freawine; Freawine begat Goldwine; Goldwine begat Deor; Deor begat Gram; Gram begat Hild; Hild begat Frealaf; Frealaf begat Brytta; Brytta begat Walda; Walda begat Folca; Folca begat Folcwine; and Folcwine begat Fengel."

Behind their leader, the Riders murmured approvingly. It impressed them that a foreigner should be so courteous as to have memorized the genealogy of their king. Their leader scowled and tried to reassert his dominance. "Know you, Elf, that all Riders can trace their roots far into the past. We are not rootless people like some ragged beggars who wander the North and style themselves Rangers." He glanced meaningfully at Aragorn. Legolas felt the young human bristle, and again he pressed the young human's elbow. Aragorn stilled, and the Rohan chief began to recite his ancestry. "Listen! Grendel the Aggressor begat Grindan the Bone Crusher; Grindan the Bone Crusher begat Grahem the Contentious; Grahem the Contentious begat Graeme the Fierce-Tempered; Graeme the Fierce-Tempered begat Gram the Quarrelsome; Gram the Quarrelsome begat Gremian the Blood Boiler; Gremian the Blood Boiler begat Grimraed, Giver of Savage Counsel; Grimraed, Giver of Savage Counsel begat Grimnǽder the Savage Serpent; Grimnǽder the Savage Serpent begat Grimtóth Sharp Tooth; Grimtóth Sharp Tooth begat Grimtung Sharp Tongue. I am that Grimtung. Do not cross me!"

"Indeed, I would not think of it," Legolas replied politely. He guessed from the nature of the names that ill-intentions and violent behavior ran true in Grimtung's bloodline. Truly, even if he gained the sympathy of the Rohirrim Men, he would have to be both clever and careful if he and Aragorn were to escape unscathed from the clutches of the Sharp Tongue. "I must confess, Master Grimtung, that I cannot list as many forebears as you," he said. This was true, of course, but only because the lifetime of an Elf encompassed many lives of Men. "I am able to say, however, that I am Anomen, the son of a Woodland Elf. But I beg leave," Legolas continued, "that you allow me to tell you of our errand." Kneeling down, he opened his pack and drew forth a small bundle. Rising to his feet, with a flourish he uncovered an object and held it up to the sun. The light glinted off the facets of a goblet, and again the Riders murmured appreciatively. "Lord Elrond," declaimed Legolas, "entrusted us with an errand, and I would convey to Fengel son of Folcwine, King of Rohan, land of the Horsemasters, this goblet, in token that my folk would drink the health of your liege."

Behind their leader, the Riders nodded approvingly. Elf or no, this stranger was courteous. As for Grimtung, his eyes glittered covetously at the sight of the goblet. It was precious, yes, precious, and he wanted it. He smiled unctuously at the Elf.

"You must pardon my earlier manner, but it is my duty to defend the borders of this land. Now I see that you and your companion mean no harm, and I can assure you that this goblet will be graciously received. But I wonder that your master has sent you afoot on such an errand. It is a long march to Edoras."

"That is true," conceded Legolas, "but Lord Elrond did not say that we had to deliver the goblet into the hands of the King himself. Indeed, I should not presume to ask for an audience with your liege. I would gladly entrust the goblet into the hands of a Man of his household."

"If that is what you wish, I will gladly serve you in your need," Grimtung said hastily. "As you can see, I have been entrusted with the leadership of these Men, and I am numbered amongst the King's counselors, as was my father and his fathers before him."

Legolas looked relieved—as he genuinely was, for matters were proceeding as he had hoped. "Would you, Master Grimtung? My friend and I would be pleased if you would take this goblet so that we might return to our kin."

Listening to Legolas' careful verbal maneuvers, Aragorn hid a smile. His friend had told no lies but had merely allowed Grimtung to believe what he wished. Now Legolas inclined his head and proffered the goblet to the eager Man, who quickly drew the wrappings over it once more and stowed it in his saddle bag. Then he reined his horse about, but his Men cried out in protest.

"Grimtung," protested one Rider, "we cannot depart without breaking bread with these folk. We must show a courtesy equal to theirs."

"We thank you for that offer of hospitality," called Legolas, "but we would not delay you from the defense of your land, for we perceive that you are a patrol charged with the task of securing your borders from such as would harm you and your folk."

"But we shouldn't mind if you left us with some provisions," piped up Aragorn, at last breaking his silence.

Legolas grimaced. "Always hungry, that one," he called apologetically.

The Rohirrim laughed, and the last traces of tension were washed away. One of them urged his horse forward and tossed a saddlebag toward Aragorn, who nimbly caught it. "I have a boy at home, so I know how it is," he smiled. "It takes much provender to raise a young one."

With that he reined about and rejoined his companions, who broke into a gallop as they resumed their patrol. Aragorn and Legolas waited until their standards had dropped below the horizon before resuming their own travels. It wouldn't do for the Rohirrim to see that they headed west toward Lothlórien rather than east toward Rivendell.

"On our return," mused Legolas as they walked, "we shall have to find a way north of that marsh. If those Men come upon us returning from Lothlórien, they will not be so hospitable."

Aragorn, however, paid him no mind, for he was preoccupied with other matters. "A boy," he spluttered. "He called me a boy. And he numbered me amongst the young."

"You _are_ young," laughed Legolas.

"But I am not a boy," protested Aragorn.

Legolas shrugged. "To an Elf, it is hard to tell the difference between a Man and a boy. Perhaps you should grow a beard."

"I will," resolved Aragorn. "Henceforth I shall never be clean shaven."

"I do hope, though, that you will trim your beard from time to time," Legolas added hastily.

"But, Legolas," teased Aragorn, his good humor returning, "it is true, as Grimtung said, that I am a Ranger—or so Halbarad tells me. I am afraid any beard I grow _must_ be scruffy, lest I forfeit my membership in that venerable company. But never mind that," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "Gwadur-nîn, why didn't you tell Grimtung that you were Legolas of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil, son of Oropher? Perhaps he would have been less suspicious and more polite if he knew that he addressed a prince."

"Estel, you saw how Grimtung coveted the goblet. A prince, too, is a great treasure. Had I told him my name, he might have been tempted to betray me to my foes for a price or to seize me himself in order to extort a ransom from my father. By the by, I notice that _you_ never volunteered _your_ name."

"He didn't ask."

"But if he had, I warrant you wouldn't have told him that you were Aragorn, son of Arathorn, son of Arador, son of—

"Yes, Legolas, I see your point. I have been taught to use the name of Aragorn only when amongst friends, so it is true that I would have told him that I am Estel, orphan and foster-son of Elrond of Imladris."

"Even that name may be dangerous," Legolas said thoughtfully, "for it is an elvish name born by a human. It would raise questions. When you go amongst Men, you had better pick a mannish name."

Aragorn sighed. "Already have one," he grumbled. "When I first accompanied Halbarad to Bree-land, a Man at an inn in Archet said that I must have a great stride to keep up with a Ranger. He must have made the comment to many a Man because when I returned to Bree-land, everyone I met addressed me as 'Strider'."

"When you go amongst the Men of Rohan and of Gondor, you had better pick a name that sounds less common," warned Legolas.

Aragorn nodded. "You are right, Legolas. I will think on it. But there is another matter more pressing."

"Truly? And what might that be?" grinned Legolas, who suspected he knew the answer.

"Since you have given away another goblet," Aragorn pointed out gloomily, "we now once more must present the Lord and the Lady with an odd number of drinking vessels."

"If that is the case, then," jested Legolas, "we shall simply have to contrive to lose another one."

And I warrant we will," grumbled Aragorn. "The only question is, how shall it be done, this time?"

"Let us press onward and find out!" said Legolas cheerfully.

And on they marched.


	5. Chapter 5: Sharp Shards

**Thanks to the following reviewers: **_**Elfinabottle**__**Joee1**__**Opalkitty**__**The Inebriated Lion-Minion**__**fair rider**__**Telcontar Rulz, **_**and **_**CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**Chapter 5: Sharp Shards**

Aragorn and Legolas had passed by the easternmost edge of the fen and had turned north so that they might once more journey within the outskirts of Fangorn Forest. As they marched, they debated whether or not to detour toward Isengard in order to briefly shelter within its fortified ring. Aragorn had never been to that place and was curious to see the great tower of Orthanc. The young human's interest had been piqued by reports that the tower had been erected by magic, for its stone was reputed to be too hard to be hewn by human hands. Legolas, however, adamantly opposed the excursion, and since the Elf's vehement objections were stronger than the Man's mild curiosity, Aragorn yielded to his friend's wishes.

"You have a great dislike for Lord Saruman, don't you?" Aragorn observed as they walked along. "Why is that so, Legolas? Mithrandir trusts him, and you usually place great stock in your mentor's opinion."

"I think that in this one case Mithrandir has been blinded by partiality. Saruman is of his order. Moreover, they have labored together, and Mithrandir's memories of the past color his notions of the present."

"But, Legolas, have you any reasons for believing that Mithrandir ought to doubt Saruman?"

"I know that I can prove nothing," Legolas said slowly, "but whenever I have encountered Saruman, foul folk have flocked in his wake. It has happened far too often for me to believe that it is only a coincidence."

"Yet belief is not proof," Aragorn pointed out.

Legolas nodded unhappily. Only Galadriel shared his suspicions about Saruman. He believed that someday those suspicions would prove true, but he would take no pleasure in uttering the elven equivalent of 'I told you so', for that would mean that harm had befallen those whom he loved.

By this time they were crossing the path that would have led them to Orthanc, and they stopped in the middle of it, puzzled. They could see that a great number of feet had passed this way recently, for the soil was churned, and they could make out that the throng had included Orcs, Men, and Elves, a most peculiar collocation. Moreover, the Men were not shod as the Men of Rohan were. Aragorn wrinkled his brow. "Legolas," he said worriedly, "those look like the marks of Southron traders that Halbarad pointed out to me upon a time."

Legolas nodded somberly. He recognized the marks. He had first seen such spoor in the company of Glorfindel, who had trained him as a tracker. "The tracks of Men and Orcs are to the outside," he pointed out. "The Elves are all in the center."

"Captives," Aragorn said bleakly.

"And heading toward Isengard," Legolas said flatly.

"Perhaps," opined Arargorn, trying to put matters in the best light, "Saruman is going to redeem them."

"Do you really believe that?"

Aragorn considered. If the captives were being taken to Isengard, and Saruman redeemed them, well and good. But if not? Quickly, he reached a decision.

"Legolas, we must try to free the captives before they reach Isengard. If we do nothing, great and irremediable harm may result. If we rescue them, we may be doing Saruman an injustice, but it would be far worse if through inaction we consigned the innocent to an eternity of suffering."

Legolas naturally agreed, and the young Elf and human turned toward the north, following the path to Isengard. As they walked, they discussed how they might effect a rescue.

"I reckon there are a dozen Orcs, and half as many Men—too many for us to take them on directly," Legolas opined. "We must rely upon stealth."

"Aye, and upon those of the captives who are able to assist in their own rescue."

Night fell but the moon rose, and by its light Aragorn and Legolas continued their pursuit. At last they drew near the spot where their quarry had made camp, and it was as they feared. In the center of a clearing huddled seven Elves. All but the youngest, a tiny elfling who clung to his mother, were bound hand and foot. Around them twelve Orcs and eight Men lay sleeping. A thirteenth Orc stood watch. To Legolas, the light watch was yet another sign of Saruman's treachery. For why would the slavers set such a light guard unless they felt that there was little chance that they would be assailed so close to Isengard? There was no time to dwell on the question, however; the sooner they freed the captives and escaped from this place, the better.

The two friends had agreed that Aragorn would dispose of the most of their foes whilst Legolas would free the captives. "The Elves may be frightened if approached by a Man," Legolas had pointed out, "but they will trust one of their own kind." The Orc guard, however, they would take out together.

Carefully they crept up to the guard, keeping just within the bushes. Legolas positioned himself to the right; Aragorn to the left. Legolas made a slight noise. The Orc looked his direction, turning his back toward Aragorn. The creature took one step toward the Elf's hiding place. Suddenly, his head was yanked backward, and a flash of silver crossed his throat. His head was released, and for a moment he stood, a look of surprise upon his face. Then, without his ever having uttered a sound, his legs crumpled and he collapsed to the ground. Clutching his bloodied knife, Aragorn knelt beside the dead Orc and yanked the creature's knife from its belt and tossed it to Legolas, who slipped from cover and into the midst of the camp. He knelt by one of the male Elves and cut his bonds with the Orc knife. Leaving that blade with the freed prisoner, he drew his own knife and cut the bonds of a second captive, while the newly freed prisoner freed a third one.

Aragorn, meanwhile, crept to a slumbering slaver and dispatched him with the same efficiency with which he had done away with the Orc guard. The third freed Elf slipped to the body of this slaver. Retrieving the corpse's knife, the Elf moved on to cut the bonds of yet another Elf.

This went on for several more minutes until the elfling, watching wide-eyed, began to whimper. The sound roused one of the Southrons who slept nearby. Groggily, he opened his eyes, and slowly the scene registered upon his brain. Suddenly he sat up with a shout that aroused the other surviving Men and Orcs.

Hastily Legolas cut the bonds of the last Elf. This one, with no weapon, fled into the woods with three female Elves and the elfling. The other two Elves remained with Legolas and Aragorn as a rear guard. Parrying the swords and scimitars of their foes, they slowly retreated. At last, when Legolas deemed that enough time had passed so that the elfling and females, with their male escort, had had an adequate head start, he gave the signal to retreat.

Aragorn was fleet of foot but no match for an Elf. As they fled, he fell a little behind the others. As for their foes, one of them, a Southron, was a little swifter than his fellows and drew ahead of them. With a sudden burst of speed, this Southron caught up with Aragorn and tackled him. He had no mind to kill him, though, because a slaver is always ruled by thoughts of profit. If the Elves had escaped, at least he could sell this young human and so recoup in part his losses.

When the Southron had brought him down, Aragorn had fallen upon his sword arm. It bent at an odd angle, and Aragorn felt a sharp pain shoot its length. Nevertheless, he fought hard to break the Southron's hold. "Stop struggling, boy," the Man grunted. "I'm not going to hurt you." Aragorn put no stock in such promises, however, and brought his knee up hard into his captor's groin. With a shriek, the Man released his hold upon Aragorn, who staggered to his feet and ran after his fleeing comrades. Abruptly, however, he was yanked backward. Greed trumping pain, the Southron had surged to his feet and managed to lay hold of Aragorn's pack. Desperately, Aragorn wriggled free of it. Roaring in frustration, the Southron threw it aside, and Aragorn heard the crash of breaking glass as the pack smashed against his tree. The next sound he heard was that of a knife whirring past his head, followed by a howl. Then silence fell. Aragorn looked back. The Southron stood slumped against a tree, a knife protruding from his chest. As Aragorn watched, the Southron slid dead to the forest floor. Suddenly the young Man jumped as someone seized his arm—his good arm, fortunately. It was Legolas. The Elf had heard the Southron shriek, realized that Aragorn had fallen behind, and raced back for him. "Aragorn," he said urgently, "run on. I will get the pack."

"Leave it," cried Aragorn. "The goblets are broken."

"I want my knife, anyway," retorted Legolas, shoving Aragorn in the direction the others had gone.

In a few moments, Legolas rejoined his friend, who was angry to see that the Elf had paused to retrieve the pack as well as the knife.

"Are you mad?" the young human gasped through the pain that jarred him with every step he took.

"Save your breath to speed your pace," Legolas shot back. "You are slowing us down."

"Then leave me," Aragorn gasped. Legolas was right; he was slowing them down, and their foes grew ever nearer. The young Man could hear the shouts of their pursuers and the crack of broken branches as they trampled all before them. Then he noticed that Legolas was unfastening the pack as he ran. Once it was open, the Elf upended it and, trailing it behind him, scattered its contents upon the ground. A few of the goblets were unbroken, but Legolas did not care. They would serve his purpose, for their heedless pursuers would trample upon them, with predictable results.

Aragorn was grinning now, his delight in Legolas' cleverness outweighing the pain of a broken arm. When they had been tracking their enemies, he had noticed that they were shod in light footgear, such as would be suitable for lurking in a forest whose deep leaf litter cushioned every footfall. Legolas had noticed, too.

Suddenly the air was rent with shrieks and howls. Their pursuers had reached the patch of broken goblets. Aragorn and Legolas ran on. Little by little the sounds receded, and at length nothing was heard but birdsong.


	6. Chapter 6: The Last One Standing

**Thanks to the following reviewers: **_**Elfinabottle, Joee1, Opalkitty, The Inebriated Lion-Minion, Mirwen Sunrider, grumpy123, red., fair rider, windwraith, **_**and **_**CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**Vocabulary**

**melethron-nîn—my beloved**

**Chapter 6: The Last One Standing**

The rescued Elves had been stolen from Mirkwood, but because they were bruised and weary, Legolas urged them to go first to Lothlórien to recover before attempting the journey across the plain to their homes. They were anxious to rejoin their kinsmen, however, and declared that they wished to return to their homes straightaway.

"I don't see how they shall manage the journey," Aragorn observed. "The adults will have to take turns carrying the little one, and each has scarcely enough strength to support his own weight."

This was true. The flight from their pursuers had left the Elves prostrate.

"We shall have to procure them mounts," declared Legolas. "I will see to it. You, too, are weak and weary."

Legolas stood up and shouldered his pack.

"Legolas, you don't mean to steal horses from the Rohirrim," Aragorn said in alarm.

Legolas shook his head.

"We are near a trade route followed by those who deal in Dorwinion wine. I shall follow it until I find a company of merchants and chaffer for mounts."

Aragorn nodded his head as he thought gloomily of what it was that Legolas was likely to chaffer. Then he turned his thought to preparing a meal for the rescued captives. He settled upon fish, for with his broken arm, which was now in a sling, he could not draw a bow to bring down game. He knew Elves were not excessively fond of fish, but he suspected that in their present state, they wouldn't be picky.

The elfling watched him curiously as he chose a branch to fashion into a fishing pole. The little fellow had been carried throughout the Elves' ordeal and so was in better shape than his kin. The elfling was lucky to be so small, Aragorn thought to himself. Slavers had been known to slay young ones who were too large to be carried but not large enough to keep up with the adults.

"Would you like to fish?" Aragorn asked. "I could make you a pole."

The elfling smiled shyly, and soon the two were perched upon the bank of a branch of the Anduin River. The fish they caught, when combined with the berries and mushrooms that they foraged, made for an adequate and even tasty meal. Afterward Aragorn and the male Elves took turns standing watch. The young human thought it unlikely that the slavers would pursue them any further, but it was wise to take precautions nonetheless.

The next morning Legolas rode into camp on one horse whilst leading two others. They were big draft horses, and docile, and Aragorn had no doubt that they would easily carry the seven Elves to their homes in Mirkwood. Aragorn gave one of the male Elves his sword, and another one his bow, for he could make use of neither weapon. The Elves had the Orc blades, too.

After the Elves had departed, Aragorn and Legolas tidied the camp. When they were finished, only an Elf or a Ranger would have noticed any sign that a band had sheltered there. Then the two friends resumed their trek.

"Legolas," Aragorn asked as they walked, "how many goblets have we left?"

"It is no matter," Legolas said evasively.

"Just tell me this: is it an odd number or an even?"

"Odd."

Aragorn groaned.

"Shall we break one so that the number is even," teased Legolas.

Aragorn shook his head vehemently. "Legolas, I warrant that the number of remaining goblets is so small that we had better husband every one!"

Legolas grinned but said nothing, and Aragorn knew that he had guessed rightly. 'A small number', he said to himself. 'But how many?' he wondered. 'Nine? Seven? Five?'

Legolas, however, was not talking, and Aragorn's curiosity was to remain unsatisfied until they arrived in Lothlórien. His joy was great when they finally neared the outskirts of that land. Partly it was relief in knowing that the suspense was nearly over; partly it was his happiness at knowing that his broken arm would be tended to. Legolas had carefully splinted it before devising a sling for the arm, but even though Legolas was a skilled healer, Aragorn knew that Galadriel was an even better one.

Aragorn's thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of greetings. "Mae govannen," called many voices, and a patrol led by Haldir broke cover.

"Haldir!" shouted Aragorn, and with his one good arm managed to hug the Elf, who, as always, was a bit startled at how demonstrative the young human was but in the end took it in good stride.

"What happened to you, Estel?" asked the Elf after they had embraced. "You didn't fall out of tree, did you? I thought only Rúmil did that!"

"He fell a considerably shorter distance," said Legolas, smirking. "He tumbled from his feet to the ground. Of course," the Elf added, "he was grappling with a Southron at the time, so I suppose he may be forgiven."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Rúmil. "Come. We shall go to our camp, where you may bathe and rest. Then tomorrow you shall be escorted to the Lady, who will tend to your remaining hurts."

The two travelers agreed with alacrity, although for different reasons. Aragorn liked the idea of resting; to Legolas, the thought of a bath was appealing.

Early the next morning they set out for Caras Galadhon with a small escort of Elves. Aragorn was concerned at their having lost so many of the goblets intended for the Lord and Lady, but as they walked his happiness began to outweigh his anxiety. Lothlórien had been the place where he had first met Arwen, and as such would always have a special place in his heart, a fact that was more than a match for his fear that they would be mortified when Celeborn and Galadriel realized that the gift they proffered was only a poor reflection of the gift intended.

At last the two friends stood at the base of the tree in which the Lord and Lady dwelt in their talan. Their escort bade them a genial farewell, and Legolas and Aragorn commenced their climb. Soon they stood before Celeborn and Galadriel.

"You are very welcome here," Celeborn said, inclining his head. Beside him, Galadriel smiled her usual enigmatic smile that hinted at much known but little said.

Beside Aragorn, Legolas took a deep breath. Then he made known their errand. "My Lord, my Lady, we bear a gift from the Lord Elrond," he declaimed. With a flourish he drew from his pack an object swathed in leather and unwrapped it to reveal—a goblet.

Aragorn blanched. One was an odd number, but could it really be that—

Aragorn's fears lessened a little when Legolas drew from his pack a second object, and the young human outright exhaled in relief when Legolas pulled out yet another. Both were revealed to be goblets. Better and better. Then—nothing. Legolas rolled up his pack and set it aside. Aragorn caught Legolas' eye, and the Elf shook his head slightly. So that was it: three and only three glass goblets had survived. Aragorn and Legolas looked nervously at their hosts. Galadriel smiled graciously.

"How kind of Elrond to send us these three drinking vessels."

Celeborn shook his head disapproving. "Elrond sent one too many. Two would have sufficed. One has only one mouth; thus one needs only one drinking vessel."

"That is true in the main, melethron-nîn," replied Galadriel, "but it was very thoughtful of Elrond to send an odd number of goblets in case one should be broken. These are glass goblets, after all, and therefore more fragile than ones of metal would be. Indeed," she added, smiling slyly at Legolas and Aragorn, "it is a prodigious feat that you have brought three goblets such a distance unbroken."

Legolas and Aragorn bowed, careful to keep grave expressions upon their faces.

"I will not gainsay you, my Lady," Legolas said smoothly. "It is indeed remarkable that we have brought these three goblets safely to Lothlórien."

"Indeed, that is true," smiled Galadriel, "and I think it only fitting that the first to drink from these goblets should be those who bore them a great distance through many perils." She poured wine into one glass goblet and handed it to Legolas and filled a second one for Aragorn, who had to clutch it with his left hand. For her husband and herself she filled two goblets of silver.

"Let us toast these young wayfarers," she said when all were furnished with goblets. She clinked her glass against her husband's and then nodded at Aragorn and Legolas. Grinning, the two brought their glasses together—and then stood aghast as the delicate vessels shattered.

"M-m-my Lady," stammered Aragorn. "I am so sorry. It is my fault. I cannot govern my left hand as well as my right."

"No, I am at fault," insisted Legolas. "Aragorn is injured; I am not. Therefore I should have known to take greater care in the handling of my own vessel."

Galadriel smiled. "Neither of you is at fault. It is merely that Elrond was overly optimistic in thinking that such fragile objects would arrive intact—and remain so! Nevertheless, it is plain that your courage and honor survived the journey, and such are not only more durable but more valuable than any vessel of glass. We will accept those as your gifts to us in lieu of the goblets. This one goblet we will keep in token of those gifts, but I do not think we will drink from it!"

Smiling with relief, the young Elf and young human remained in the talan while Galadriel tended to Aragorn's arm. Then they took their leave of the Lord and Lady and went in search of Rúmil and Orophin, whom Haldir had said would be in from patrol. Once they had found their Lórien friends, they whiled away the hours in singing and drinking—from metal goblets!—until a messenger from Celeborn and Galadriel arrived to politely remind them that the Elves in the surrounding flets were desirous of rest.

The next morning Legolas arose before Aragorn and wandered about, renewing his acquaintance with several trees that were old friends. At length he strayed near Galadriel's Glade, and he saw the Lady standing by the stairway that led down to the Mirror. She beckoned to him, and he followed her down the steps.

'Am I to be vouchsafed a vision?' Legolas wondered, but that was not Galadriel's purpose. She merely wished to speak with him in private.

"You encountered Orcs twice on this journey, is that not so?"

"Yes, my Lady. We were ambushed in Dunland. Then we happened upon a band of Men and Orcs in Fangorn Forest."

"The slavers?"

"Yes, my Lady. The Men were Southrons."

"Whence came the Orcs?"

"The Orcs were a smallish breed, like those accustomed to hiding in the crevasses upon the slopes of the Misty Mountains. But I think they had lately been dwelling in the environs where we encountered them. They were not shod like those accustomed to traveling long distances. Rather than hobnailed boots, they wore soft-soiled footgear—if they wore shoes at all, for several were barefoot."

"A fact which you turned to good account," said Galadriel, a smile flitting across her face. Then she turned serious again.

"These Orcs and Southrons were in a portion of Fangorn Forest nigh unto Isengard," she stated somberly.

Legolas remained silent. Galadriel looked meaningfully at him. "You do not find it surprising that Orcs and Southrons would have crept so close to Isengard," she observed.

"I do not, my Lady," Legolas said firmly.

"Good. On this journey you preserved Estel from the cold after you were cast into the icy waters of the Bruinen, and you rescued him from the clutches of the Southron who would have enslaved him. But as important as both of these feats was your discouraging him in his desire to visit Isengard. Like a glass goblet, Hope is both precious and rare and must be protected. Many are the perils by which Hope may be lost and destroyed, and I deem that one such peril may be found within the stone circle of Isengard. Keep Estel far from thence! Do not let Saruman's eye fall upon him, no, no more than you would let the Eye of Sauron do so!

"My Lady, I swear that I shall do as you bid."

Galadriel smiled upon him. "I trust you with Estel as Elrond trusted you with the goblets—but this time see that no harm comes to your charge!"

"I vow to you that I shall do everything in my power to keep Estel safe."

"You will keep that vow. You are loyal to those you love—and to those you will come to love in the future, no matter how unlikely they may seem as objects of your affection."

Galadriel's latter statement was puzzling, but she gave Legolas no time to ponder it.

"Now go, Legolas. Estel has awoken and, as usual, is hungry. Your first task, then, is to protect him from starvation—or his notion of starvation, anyway. Unlike you, he is still growing and will continue to do so for several more years. This fact accounts for the appalling voracity that he displays upon occasion. In some ways he is a boy still, although he would deny it."

"He does have a beard coming on, my Lady."

"Will he trim it, do you think," Galadriel said archly.

Legolas laughed and shook his head. Was there anything, he wondered, that the Lady did not know? He bowed respectfully and as Galadriel had commanded he returned to his friend, who was indeed awake and complaining of hunger.

**Epilogue**

Elrond was beaming as he read the missive that Aragorn and Legolas had carried back with them from Lothlórien.

"Galadriel writes that she and Celeborn are well pleased with the gifts that Estel and Legolas carried with them to Lothlórien."

"Gifts?" said Mithrandir, who had returned from the Shire the previous evening. "Why gifts? I thought you sent a _gift_ of goblets. It was one gift, albeit consisting of many objects."

"You are being as exacting as Erestor," scolded Elrond. "No doubt Galadriel is thinking of goblets in the plural, hence 'gifts'."

Gandalf shook his head. "That is not the correct idiom. One sends a gift of goblets, not gifts of goblets."

Gandalf looked suspiciously at the two young wayfarers who stood before them with innocent expressions upon their faces. "There's more to this than meets the eye," the wizard muttered, shaking his head. "Howsomeever, if Galadriel does not now see fit to enlighten us as to her meaning, we shall just have to wait until such time as she does—if ever!"

And so Estel and Legolas, still bearing their 'gifts', were given leave to depart Elrond's study and to do with their time as they would—until the next adventure.


End file.
